The Life of a Father
by janefan13
Summary: My Gunther story. One year after 'Life of a Chef'. I suck at summaries. Pleaese review!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Finally decided on a title. Be ready for the old update speed, or even faster. It was killing me to not update.**

Gunther was sparring with Sir Bedwyr. The large Welsh knight was fearsome with the spear, but when armed with a sword, Gunther won every time. In fact, Gunther was defeating Sir Bedwyr and thinking deeply. His thoughts first turned to his wife, Fiona, now ripe with child. Her blazing red hair, her delicate face, her emerald green eyes, the stance she took when fighting. _Wait_, he ended the train of thought, _wrong red-head. _But it was _hard_ to end that train of thought. He had truthfully loved Jane, even though she had made it obvious that she did not feel the same way.

Even thirteen years afterward, he still somewhat hoped that she would realize her folly. But at this point, he believed that they could be friends as they never were, and he didn't want to damage that by thinking about her like he thought about his wife. Truth be told, that just might be the _best _thing that Gunther could do, considering how he felt about the two women. Think of Jane like Fiona and Fiona like Jane. That way, he could perhaps love the sewing, embroidering, dancing, _proper_ wife that he had, and look upon the graceful, beautiful, fighting, _amazing_ Jane with friendship. He tried to do so for a few moments, and failed. He didn't think he could do that.

He tore himself away from his thoughts in time to realize that Sir Bedwyr had become slow drawing his sword back to the defensive position, leaving an opening. Gunther took advantage, sending Sir Bedwyr flying to the ground.

"Good. Ya needed to be a goin' to yer duties in thah market, anyway," rumbled Sir Ivon from the knights' quarters.

"Very well, Sir Ivon," responded Gunther, taking his leave. He silently cursed his duty, as it would only leave him more open to his thoughts, but every knight had to serve watch at some point during the Grand Market, and his was today.

The Grand Market was a Kippernia tradition: Every year, vendors from all over Kippernia would make their way to the square just outside of the castle for the weeklong event. At this location, you could pay a minor fee for a stall, but you would still need to provide anything beyond the location itself. Naturally, people who sold booths arrived first in order to take advantage of everyone who forgot a table, as the space was much too small for a cart. Every Inn in town would be busy, and so would every thief. _Everyone_ would be coming to the Grand Market, so every knight had to try to restrain the thieves

He was really quite bored of standing with his hands on his sword intimidatingly when he finally noticed someone picking pockets. He moved silently, making his way to just behind the young man. Or he at least _thought_ it was a young man.

When he placed his hand firmly on the man's shoulder, an "eep" was sounded with a voice deeper than any boy's. Gunther, only holding him with one hand, picked up this curiosity. The man, for he now knew it to be a man, was the shortest he had ever seen. He barely made it to Gunther's waist, a perfect height for a thief, but he also had a head more than large enough for Gunther. He had tousled brown hair that looked like with a good scrub could be white-blond, his eyes were the color of the blood, and his skin was absolutely white. _Must be an albino_, thought Gunther. Still holding the Halfling with one hand, Gunther began to pat him down for weapons.

Gunther found an assortment of knives, lock picks, change purses, jewelry, and items that Gunther was _sure_ were contraband. He quickly confiscated all of these and took the albino Halfling to the prison cart, telling the man guarding it of the small man's crime. Gunther stood his watch until noon, at which point he made his way up from the square into the castle.

He turned the gold and jewelry in to the Chamberlain and brought the knives and lock picks to Smithy to be melted. As soon as he entered the forge, Smithy noticed the contents of his arms and gestured towards the pile next to the fire. As Gunther was putting them down, he noticed a flash of white among the metallic colors. He reached for it, avoiding blades, and found a knife with the blade sliding off. He called to Smithy, wondering what this thing was. He removed the blade before Smithy had finished with whatever he was doing and unwrapped the animal hide on the hilt. He heard Smithy approach more than saw it, as he was enveloped by this whiteness, and also heard when Smithy stopped abruptly.

"Please tell me that thing is not yours," said Smithy, obviously disapproving of this object lying in Gunther's hand.

"It is not mine, some thief at the market had it. Why? And what is this white material?" asked Gunther, quite curious.

"It is good that it is not yours. That is a bone knife." Seeing the puzzled look on Gunther's face, Smithy elaborated. "Do you remember when Pepper was injured by that rapist about a year ago?" Smithy began.

"Who could forget! That horrible gash on her hip! That man deserved to die! It is a shame that he was only sentenced to life in the dungeons," Gunther began to look angry.

"Do you know why she had that gash?" Smithy continued.

"No, but I have a feeling that you are going to tell me," Gunther responded, beginning to look at the material in his hand questionably.

"He was going to make a bone knife." Smithy let that sink into Gunther.

"So this…?" Gunther asked, gesturing towards the knife in front of him.

"Used to be someone's hip." Gunther dropped the pieces with disgust.

"We must tell the King! We must ask who the Halfling got it from!" Gunther left the forge quickly, leaving Smithy to pick up the remains that Gunther had left on the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Please review!**

"And so you wish to see this prisoner. Easily done." The king snapped his fingers, and forward stepped an apprentice scribe. "Prepare the appropriate documents for Sir Gunther to visit a prisoner in the makeshift dungeon outside of the castle." The dungeons were reserved for those who have committed dastardly deeds, things that would send them to the deepest recesses of the Christian Hell, and prevent their spirit from entering the Celtic Other World, not for common thieves trying to earn some extra gold. Within moments, the same scribe appeared with the necessary document in hand. The King waved Gunther off, not really caring about the result.

Gunther began to make his way to the temporary dungeon, but on the way was almost toppled by a girl crying that ran into his back. "If you cannot cook ze soufflé, you cannot cook!" Gunther heard Madam Morrel yell after the crying girl, obviously yet another 'sub par' kitchen hand.

"Is there a woman on the planet who cooks like you?!" Gunther threw at the chef.

"Leave your compliments for your wife, _chevalier. _I do not need them!" she returned, spitting in the dirt before she turned around to finish the 'delicious meal' she had been cooking before the 'terrible girl' 'ruined' it. It happened every day, and they were all used to it by now. Gunther kept on walking, almost chuckling until he remembered his task.

He arrived at the crudely built mound of sticks that looked ready to collapse at any moment, and had several times that year. Gunther handed the slip of paper to the foot soldier assigned to guard the dungeon. "Good luck finding the one you want. There are over one hundred men in here." Gunther shrugged at the soldier and entered. He realized that it might be difficult, but after a few moments, the thieves realized he was _not_ to be stolen from, and it was best to just avoid him.

"Come to visit me, eh? Sneak me out of 'ere?"

"I am here to ask you a question, then move you to a cell in the castle dungeon."

"'Ear that, boys? I get me self me own room!" the dungeon exploded with laughter.

"Where did you get that bone knife?"

"A what now? I can not hear you with yer high-and-mighty 'proper' language. Speak gutter, and maybe I'll understand you better!" several of the thieves were rolling on the floor, holding their sides as the small albino made a fool of the knight.

Gunther gave a satirical laugh, looking at the larger group and turning his back to the albino. He then quickly turned around, grabbed the thief by his collar, and pushed him against the rickety wall. "Do not make me ask again. I am not accustomed to doing so, and I just might lose my head." Gunther said quietly, and with every word the small man paled more.

"It was, ah, in a village to the south! Yeah, called, ah, Cestor. Good old Cestor! A man be the name of, ah, Padraig. Big Irishman, can't miss 'im. Shadiest man I ever dealt with!" The man was obviously lying.

"Are you sure, because if I find that there is no Padraig of Cestor, then I will find myself in your cell, without anyone nearby, and we'll see if my hand doesn't slip."

"Did I say Cestor? I meant Smithtown! To the north! Man of the name Greagoir!"

"Do I need to go into detail as to _how_ my hand will slip?"

"Pal of Skegness, on the coast! Don't tell him I told ye, or he'll kill me!"

"Come on, scum, you're going to the castle." Gunther said, satisfied that the Halfling told the truth, as he had heard of the last village to be named. He started to drag the albino out, receiving a salute from the guards as he passed. He made his way to the dungeon where the turnkey waited and dropped him in his cell. "You'll be pleased to know that you are in the cell next to the infamous Geordie, master carver of human bone. He doesn't like people who squeal. Geordie! This man has been very useful! He has told us the location of a bone worker!" Gunther left the Albino squirming in his cell, trying to get away from the wall he shared with the man who had cut of his own arm to carve it, on his way to deliver his first update to the King.

OoOoO

"You may take one knight, and the Smith. I believe his wife is capable of handling the forge in his absence."

"Very well, sire," Gunther said, bowing and leaving at the obvious dismissal. He went to tell Smithy, and then proceeded to tell Jane that he required her for a quest. From there he told Fiona that he would have to leave, which was about the time when she started crying. _Why do I put up with a wife who fears her husband doing his duty to his sovereign?_ Gunther wondered, never voicing it aloud. By the next day all was ready, and the three set off to capture a different kind of thief than that at the market. A thief of souls.

OoOoO

Fiona watched as her husband galloped on his horse. Anyone could see that she loved her husband dearly, and she tried to show him by cooking, cleaning, weaving, knitting, doing everything to make up for the loss of all the things that he had had throughout his childhood and now lived without. She had loved him since her childhood, when he had dove into a pool to save her from drowning when he was but a lad. He did not know it was her, but she could never forget.

When Fiona met Gunther again as an adult, he immediately looked at her with loving eyes. At the time, she cursed her untamable red hair, thinking that he would prefer it tamed, cursed her flat chest, thinking he would prefer someone more full. But she realized that he would not have married her if she looked any different. She had heard him murmur _her_ name in his sleep, she had seen the way that his loving eyes turned to hatred when he realized that she was not his beloved, and never would be, she knew. Oh yes, she knew. She knew that her husband did not love her, for he loved the woman who appeared so similar to Fiona in looks, but was completely different in character. A woman who was as fierce as Fiona was meek, as strong as Fiona was weak, as fiery as Fiona was calm, with a sense of justice as devout as Fiona's was nonexistent. A woman who rode beside him, not side-saddle with skirts, but straddling the horse with a sword in hand. Her husband was in love with Jane, and Fiona could do nothing about it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: one two many strawberry lemonades. can hardly type. please review. putting myself out of my misery.**

If Gunther was not happy, he didn't know what he was! He had the woman he loved beside him, and the open road before the two of them. Of course, the woman he loved did not love him, and it was really three people, but there were still on the open road! That counted, right?

"You know, this somewhat reminds me of the quest Sir Ivon sent me on with Sir Bedwyr."

"Oh, how so?" Gunther said, trying to pretend he had only passing interest, not a physical _need_ to hang on her every word, listening as her beautiful lips mouthed words like honey onto his soul. He wasn't doing all that well.

"Well, in the first case, we had been looking for a bone knife merchant, Geordie, and in the second place, it was also in Skegness. Of course, then it was only me and Jester, no children to worry over. My first quest as a knight. And what was your first quest, again?"

"Nothing, nothing really. Just sneaking into an enemy camp and capturing the general of the forces, who then told us the location of his superiors, allowing us to capture them and win the entire war in less than a week. Keep going," Gunther had been hurt when she had mentioned Gunther, all the more so because of the faraway look in her eyes she got when se thought of those she loved. Gunther never got those looks. But to be able to hear this angel continue speaking, he would fight through ravaging hordes, destroy monsters, wrestle giants, and turn over the very world. He convinced her to talk in greater detail, but eventually she began to feel awkward and dropped back to talk to Smithy over something in hushed tones.

"Were you in the throne room when the King gave Gunther his orders?"

"No, Jane."

"And you're sure he said the King said I was to go?"

"Yes, Jane. I do not know why you are suspicious of him."

"I'm afraid of what he might do to spend time with me."

"Are you implying…"

"Of course not."

"That is good, because I saw the knife myself. That seems a bit drastic, to buy a knife just to spend time near to you. I think you have too much imagination, Jane."

"Of course," Jane responded, but still looked somewhat suspicious. Smithy did not really understand her suspicion. Gunther was a knight of the King's guard. If he was not above suspicion, no one was. Especially considering the fact that it wasn't the first time that Gunther had been accused of a crime, and Jane had _defended_ him that time. Why would Jane suspect Gunther? It was beyond Smithy.

But then again, Smithy never really was the one who picked up on subtleties. Jane, however, had noticed that however much she spurned him, however much she mentioned Jester, he always and irreversibly remained the same lovesick puppy he had been all those years ago. Granted, he had been trying to hide it for a while after she chose Jester, and she had even thought it possible to just be friends, but the past year had revealed that to be an impossibility, especially after Fiona getting pregnant with his own child. Jane had the utmost respect for Fiona, especially since she did not seem to mind her husband's straying eyes.

OoOoO

Fiona hated Jane. She obviously was trying to steal Gunther from her. She had realized that her glorified jingling punching bag was useless, and now she was trying to seduce Gunther right out from under Fiona. Well, two could play at that game! After a stop in the privy, of course.

Fiona waddled her way over to the home of the d'Arks. She became increasingly intrigued when she noticed the sound of a crying baby. She knocked on the door politely, and then realized that no one could hear 'politely' against a screaming child, so she put her wait into knocking.

"No, Sir William, I don't have the ballad you wan- Hello, Mrs. Breech." Jester did not do as many friends of Jane did, beginning by calling her by his wife's name. "Do you have a favor to ask of me?" Jester was with one hand attempting to appease the three year old Janet while scrubbing something off the floor. The entire home was in a state of disarray unheard of in the Breech household.

"That is IT! I quit I have had enough of city life! I don't care what me mother says! First that over-demanding cook, and now this mess! For goodness sakes, 'Where is the Lady d'Ark?' 'She is searching for a criminal in Skegness'! I can't take it! I am going back to the farm, and there is **nothing** anyone one can do to stop me!" A rather disheveled woman came tearing down the steps, which had been hidden by layers of useless furniture, pounded some clothes into a sack, and stormed out the door.

"Sorry. We like to take in Valentine's kitchen help. None have lasted very long, though not of my fault, I don't think. What do you need?"

Fiona realized that Jester could never fall for anyone but his wife, and even if he did, Fiona did not want him, so she decided to be less coy. "Tell your wife to stay away from my husband."

"That may be difficult, since the King assigned them to work together."

"Not just this, but he is constantly trailing after her. She must be encouraging this, because Gunther would never attempt something believed to be impossible. Make her stop."

"I cannot. If Gunther is trailing after her, I must believe that he has some reason, and if Jane is leading him, she must have a reason. I will not, however, hear you imply in my house that my wife is trying to seduce your husband. I hope that you do not start every conversation by implying that the person whom you are speaking with's spouse is unfaithful, as that is not a good way to find yourself liked. Now if you don't mind, leave my house."

"But your wife is obvio-"

"Get OUT of my house, and stop spreading such slanderous rumors!" For those of you who have not seen Jester angry, it is a thing to avoid. He is normally an amiable person, but if someone says something against Jane's honor, it is a force to be reckoned with. Fiona left, annoyed at her failure, hoping that Jester will come to realize what Fiona saw as truth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note****: This is a filler. I'm not going to lie. Please review anyway.**

"And who are you?" called a guard from the top of the city "wall". It barely went over the head of Gunther when mounted on his steed.

"I am Sir Gunther, and this is Lady Jane. We are knights in the King's service."

"And who's the third?"

"That is Smithy, our traveling companion and smith."

"What be your business in Skegness?"

"We come on an errand for the King."

"Which would be…?"

"Confidential." Gunther was getting tired of this pompous city guard.

"I can not let you in without knowing your purpose."

"Then Lady Jane and I will ride back to the castle, at which point we will come directly back with an order from the King and forty knights at our back." Very tired.

"Perhaps I should handle this?" interjected Jane, giving a death look to Gunther. "We mean no harm to the grand city of Skegness, or any offense to their loyal and devoted guards, but the King has given us a very important task."

"I can not let you through this gate until I know what it is."

"Perhaps…You seem to be trustworthy…Alright. Can you hold your tongue?"

"Under pain of death!" the guard boasted proudly.

"Lean down, then. We would not want unwelcome ears to hear." Jane looked at Smithy. The guard nodded and bent his head down to just above the top of the wall. Jane whispered something in his ear, and the giddiness of the guard became perceivable. "You will tell us if you hear anything suspicious?"

"Of course, a single whisper on the wind and I will bring word to you. You may pass."

Smithy was impressed by how quickly Jane had managed that. Normally, _Jane_ would have lost her temper and _Gunther_ would have solved it easily. Smithy really did not know what happened to Gunther when Jane was near.

They rode through the town, quickly finding the local inn. Curiously, it was titled 'The Green Dragon'. Smithy remarked this to Jane.

"Pepper told me about this. Rake bought an inn in Skegness a few months ago, and hired a man to take care of it. He calls it a 'chain'. He hopes to place one in every village, large and small. He has his eyes on your home town, next. I don't know if it'll catch on, though." Jane was finishing just when a man came out of the inn.

"Lady Jane, Sir Gunther and Jethro, correct?" The man who spoke had a heavy Roman accent, olive skin, and black, beady eyes. Something about seemed to exude a sense of trustworthiness.

"Yes, how do you know?" Gunther asked suspiciously.

"Rake told me that three friends of his would be coming. He told me to give you my three best beds."

"Excellent," Smithy said as he got off his horse. Jane and Gunther dismounted as well, and Smithy went to take them all to the stable.

"No friend of Rake will ever stable his own horse at my inn!" the innkeeper clapped his hands and a much smaller version of himself came to take the horses reins from Smithy.

The three found their rooms, swiftly making themselves comfortable, before they met in Smithy's room for a meeting.

"Why did you tell the guard what we were doing?" Smithy asked, as Gunther obviously wanted to know but refused to question Jane.

"I didn't."

"Then what exactly did you tell him?"

"I told him that we were trying to find the head of a gang of thieves, which is partially true, because I did hear some thief talking about the Gray Fox trying to pull something off in Skegness."

"Very clever, Jane."

"So how do we find Pal?" the three began to think up methods, with their heads bunched together so that not a word could escape.

OoOoO

_Well, that didn't work_, thought Fiona. But then again, Jester might be a tad too close to Jane to believe her. Perhaps the innkeeper and his wife? Fiona waddled over to the Green Dragon, with a brief side track to her privy, and waited for Verbena to finish what she was doing.

"Hello, Fiona."

"Hello, Verbena." Peppers face twisted in a grimace for a moment.

"How many times must I ask you to call me Pepper?"

"I never will, however many times you tell me."

"Well, then, what are you here for?"

"I have terrible news." This drew Pepper's attention. "I am afraid that Lady d'Ark is seducing my husband."

Pepper laughed at that at first. "Oh! You're serious. Well, I am going to have to ask that you and anyone who believes you stay away from our inn. We will not serve people so ready to believe such distasteful lies."

"Surely you jest!"

"Not in the least. Get out."

"Do we have a problem?" Rake had just entered through the door at the back of the dining room.

"Lady Breech has been spreading rumors about Jane."

"Leave. Now."

Why wouldn't they believe her? It was so obvious! Fiona left and made her way to Jethro and Elicia's home near the castle, with a short pit stop at her privy. She knocked on the gold-gilded door to the gold-gilded house. Most people would assume that this meant that the residents were wealthy, but in fact, Jethro had a goldsmith who would do anything for him, including gilding the entire house for free. She knocked quietly on the door.

"Smithy isn't here," Elicia stated.

"That's good, as I'm here to talk to you, not your husband."

"Oh! You're not Jane!"

"No, I'm Gunther's wife, Fiona."

"Good to meet you. Come in, I have some tea on the kettle."

"I thought you were supposed to be working at the castle forge?"

"I was, but my son helps, so I finish the daily duties quickly. Here is your tea. If they need anything else, they know where I am. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you about Jane." Elicia took a sip from her cup. "What do you know about her?"

"I know Smithy would trust her with his life. Why?"

"I think that she's trying to seduce my husband."

"Why?"

"Have you not seen the way he acts around her? I know Gunther would not dote on her the way he does unless he was provoked. What do you think?"

"I think you need a lot more than that to convince anyone of not only being unfaithful to their husband but to convince your husband to be unfaithful as well. Very few will believe you, and I am not one of those few. I will excuse you for the reason that I myself acted foolishly while I was pregnant with Jethro III, but not many will forgive you. I would stay quiet and confront Jane privately, but do not try to turn the town against her. They will turn against you. Leave my house until you see sense."

And so she left. She was getting tired of this. Fiona left and went to her home, once again to the privy, and made a small dinner, after which she settled into her bed, but her mind still did not settle. She kept thinking, over and over, _Two doors between them…_

**Author's note****: I'm sorry it took longer than normal for this chapter. I kind of lost my inspiration. It'll come back, but in the meantime, I'm putting this on hold.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note****: ****Alaisigae**** is one of the Celtic gods of war. Fianally, it is updated! Please review!**

Jane woke to the sound of a footstep on a creaky floorboard followed by a soft curse. Her eyes sprung open, and she immediately reached for her sword at her side and jumped up, ready to skewer the man in front of her. He stopped moving, and through the faint glow of the window she saw him raise his arms above his head. She stepped back and softly glowing lantern from her bedside table, increased the light output, and put it next to the man's face. Much to her surprise, this revealed…

"Gunther? What in the name of Alaisiagae are you doing in here?"

"Well.. I thought...maybe... company?"

"Gunther, I thought that perhaps you had been willing to move on. You have a wife and a child on the way. Even if I felt that way for you, I would refuse. But I love Jester. If you don't mind, please leave my room." A pitiful expression crossed Gunther's face, and for those of you who have not seen a full grown knight trying to look pitiful, well, let's just say that I dearly wish that I could say as much. But Gunther did not move a muscle, he just stood there with his somewhat frightening pitiful face. Jane was frustrated by his unwillingnes to go. "Now." He slowly backed out of the room like a beaten hound.

OoOoO

Elicia was right, even though Fiona refused to admit it. The whole town was on the side of that dragon riding woman. Fiona wouldn't be surprised if some people were actually _hoping_ that Jane would succeed. Fiona would just have to-

That was when the contractions came. She hadn't yet made it back to her home, so several passers-by asked if anything was wrong. She explained through short breaths. Some men lifted her into a wagon nearby and took her to her home, while others flew to the midwife.

Soon, Fiona was in her bed, with the same woman who had delivered every child in the town for almost a century. She was old, bent over double from time, with skin more wrinkly than old leather. Fiona would not be surprised if she was somehow related to the wizard, for they say that those with magic in their blood live longer, but that was nonsense since magic doesn't exist.

Fiona kept screaming "**He's not her! He's not here!**" over and over. the midwife could guess as to why, seeing as her husband was absent, but she tried her best to get Fiona calm. It didn't seem to work. Finally, she had to yell to get the silly girl to focus on the birth of her child.

"IF YOU WANT THERE TO BE A BABY, MUCH LESS A FIONA, I ADVISE YOU BE SILENT!" Fiona was quite impressed by the volume of the ancient woman, and closed her mouth. She tried her best to follow the midwife's instructions, and one day later, she sat in her bed, cradling her newborn son in her lap.


	6. Chapter 6

**Autor's note: This might be a little OOC, especially when you consider that these are adults, not children, but I always liked that little game and wanted to write something with it. Sorry it took so long, but it was fanfiction's fault not mine!**

"Smithy, will you please ask Gunther if he has a better idea?" Jane said with a stubborn look on her face.

"Do you have a be-"

"Please tell Jane that I do."

"He doe-"

"Please tell Gunther that barging into his house will not work. He probably has guards, and we could not take all of them."

"Barging into his house wo-"

"Please tell Jane that if she thinks her plan is so great, why she doesn't do it herself."

"If you think your pl-"

"Tell Gunther I can't because he won't sell a knife to a girl, because I'm the only woman who knows how to fight." Jane was beginning to get upset.

"She can't becau-"

"Tell Jane that her 'plan' is not going to work, even with me, and we only have one chance." Gunther was too.

"Your plan is no-" Smithy was at least tired of being interrupted.

"Tell Gunther that it would if he could get past his enormous ego."

"Tell him yourself! I'm a Smith, not a messenger boy!" Smithy stormed out of the room, leaving them in shocked silence for a moment.

"I do not have a giant ego!"

"Oh, yes you do!

"Well, at least in comparison to yours it isn't that big!"

"At least I don't parade around my superiority, which by the way you don't even have. Your father tried to kill the King whom we serve!" Jane said through clenched teeth.

"I told you to never mention that again!"

"What, that your father killed the innocent Princess?!"

"Innocent?! She was toying with the emotions of half of the squires!"

"And for that she deserved to die!"

"That doesn't mean you can just bring that up! It was my father, not me!"

"How do we know?! Maybe we shouldn't have intervened in your questioning!"

"How dare you! How dare you imply I had anything to do with that!"

"For all we know, you did!"

Gunther's voice dropped from a shout to a whisper. "I would never hurt the royal family, not for anything. I swore an oath, Jane." It was the first time he had ever said her name without having even the slightest hint of love.

"We all know how much your oaths mean to you," Jane responded, also dropping to a whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"If I hadn't said no, repeatedly, you would have gladly broken an oath."

"To whom?"

"To your wife. You leave her alone when she needs you most, to chase after me."

"We will do your plan. It will work."

OoOoO

Gunther strolled into the shop. Pal was by all appearances an honest general wares salesmen. There were forks, spoons, dinner knives, plates, pots, pans, bowls, tapestries, rugs, pillows, quilts, pitchers, vases, and even a few books, all for sale. Gunther looked over everything with a buyer's eye, before finally turning to speak to Pal.

"I few days ago, I got into a fight with a man in a village to the south. He had the most extraordinary blade, and when I beat him I asked him where he got it, and he told me he bought it from you. But I do not see a single thing that could be a knife, except the table knives." Gunther chuckled at his joke.

Pal looked him up and down before deciding that this fearsome man would be a man that would appreciate his weapons. And if he wasn't, well, he could take care of him. "Follow me," Pal grunted, turning his back to Gunther, moving further behind the counter. Gunther hopped over, and followed the businessman. Pal came up to what appeared to be just another panel in the wall. When Pal placed his hand on one of the knots of wood, the panel slid aside to reveal a great assortment of knives.

Pal moved up to one of the walls on the left and grabbed one of the knives. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, while pulling the blade forward, revealing the bone beneath.

"No, I have no idea," responded Gunther.

"This is the finest steel you will ever find."

"How is it made?"

The man fumbled for an answer. "It is heated far greater then any other forge could."

"Like a dragon blade?"

"Exactly."

"Where is this forge?"

Pal looked at Gunther another moment, then motioned him to follow once again. he knelt over the floor and pushed lightly against a board, and an entire panel slipped back to reveal yet another secret room. This was furnished on one side by a forge and on the other by a simple bed.

"It's ingenious, isn't it? If the knights of the realm come looking for me, I can hide in here. Even if they find the room above me, they'll never find the place where I'll be."

"Why would you need to worry about the knights?"

"Everybody needs a safe haven from knights, even you, mister brigand." Gunther looked surprised. "How did I know? The only people that ever want a blade from me are the brigands and thieves. It'll be a golden sun for the lower quality blades, and it goes up to twenty suns for the high quality."

"I only have two suns."

"Then a low quality it will be. " The man reached up for one of the blades. "What do you think of this?"

Gunther hefted the blade, testing it out, and then suddenly placed it against Pal's throat. He then took it away, just as swiftly. "This will do." He handed over the two suns without a word, and walked out the still open door to the blade room. He exited the shop and made his way to the inn where they were staying. He walked into Smithy's room, tossed the blade against the bed in disgust, and pronounced, "We have him."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: I feel that every story needs comedic relief, so hello Mr. Sheriff! Please R&R**

"Are you the sheriff?"

"Aye, that would be me. What do ye need?"

"My colleague and I wish to have a word with you. In private." Gunther looked down at this short, country bumpkin and wondered how it was that he managed to be sheriff of even the smallest of towns.

"And why would Ah do that?" Gunther flashed open his cloak just wide enough for is crest to poke through. "Come with me." The sheriff led them to a cramped room, filled with beds, weapons, and abandoned dice games.

Gunther started to explain. "I am Sir Gunther Breech, this is my fellow knight Lady Jane D'Ark the dragon rider, and our companion is Jethro Jr., the castle smith. The King sent us to discover who was behind a recent increase in bone weapons."

"Bone weapons?"

"Made of human bone. We have traced this crime back to Pal the merchant, at which point I went in masquerading as a prospective buyer. He not only showed me the proof of his guilt, but he sold me a dagger." Gunther threw the knife at the sheriff for emphasis, but the sheriff nearly injured himself on the weapon. "We require twenty of your best men to help us bring him in to custody."

"Why should Ah believe you?"

"Well, you could trust us, send your men, we capture Pal, and your name is attached to his capture, or we go back to the castle, bring back the men we need, and the glory stays within the king's knights."

The sheriff tried hard to look like he was deciding which course of action to take, but of course he was gleeful on the inside. He would be famous, he knew, and maybe then his wife would respect him. Why he married that woman he had no idea…

This train of thought continued for a few moments, before the sheriff happily agreed. As Gunther, Smithy, and Jane left, they tried to hide their amusement at the ineptitude of the sheriff. They were less successful than he was.

OoOoO

"In the name of the King, open the door!" Jane and Gunther were no longer smiling at his stupidity. He had just lost them surprise. Gunther pushed the sheriff aside and forced down the door. He swiftly moved to the place behind the desk where earlier that day Pal had stood and pushed his way into the back storeroom. He proceeded immediately to the location of Pal's hiding place. the trapdoor swung open, and Jane saw the eyes of the murderer (or at least someone who worked with murderers) and saw contempt. As Gunther moved into the small amount of the space visible from below, Pal began stuttering.

"Y-You! This man is as guilty as I am! He bought a weapon!" The local law enforcement went down and grabbed the guilty man, dragging him up the steep ladder.

"You are not as good at telling what sort of person you are dealing with as you thought you were. Everyone can tell the difference between a brigand and a knight."

OoOoO

Gunther felt good. They were leaving for home in the morning, and while it had only been a few days, he found that a lot had happened. The most obvious thing being that he had captured Pal, who was being held with the sheriff until the morning when they rode for the castle, but Gunther realized that something else had occurred. He no longer loved Jane. He still felt drawn to her, but not as fiercely as before. He wasn't sure what exactly had done it, but he knew that his passion was gone. He could move on now, maybe, though their friendship would be rocky at best after his boorish behavior. Gunther was really quite excited, for he felt that a chapter had closed on his life, starting another, though he wasn't sure what the next would be like, but he still couldn't sleep. He wanted to go home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Don't you just love cliff-hangers? I sure do!**

_Was the ride back home always this long? _thought Gunther. The way to Skegness had seemed to fly, but then again, he had been excited on the way there. Gunther wanted to be home, but yet he dreaded facing Fiona. He had never loved the woman, and had only cared for her because of her close likeness to his love. He remembered the first time he saw her. He was already in love with the woman she appeared to be.

OoOoO

She was looking pretty lost, just about then. Gunther walked over to Jane, but became shocked when the press of bodies moved aside to reveal her dress.

"Jane, what is wrong?"

"That! That is wrong! You called me Jane!" the girl snapped at Gunther.

"Well, that is your name, isn't it? It hasn't changed."

"No, it hasn't. It is and always has been Fiona."

"You should leave the jesting to your husband."

"My husband? But I have no such thing!"

Gunther looked very carefully into the confused face. It appeared to be Jane…but no! Jane's eyes were a solid emerald, but this girl had the faintest hint of gold along the interior. "You're not Jane."

"You are the first person in this city who has realized I am not this Jane you speak of." The girl was obviously hysterical, as she started crying, leaning into Gunther. Gunther didn't know what to do, so he started toward the home of the D'Arks with the girl under his arm. When he arrived, as though to prove that the two women were in fact different, Jane appeared.

"This girl is obviously new in town, and she had become very upset over the fact that everyone thinks that she is you. Her name id Fiona"

"So why did you bring her here?" Jane asked, intrigued by the similarity between them.

"I figured, well, I don't know! I thought you might be able to calm her down." Jane looked, sighed, and waved them in. Fiona had collapsed on the way to Jane's home. Jane sent Remus to get Pepper, as she would be the best equipped to deal with the girl, but no sooner than he left did the girl awoke.

"This mirror is awry. My eyes are not green."

"This is no mirror," responded Jane.

Fiona was startled, but she collected her wits. "So you are Jane? The resemblance is uncanny."

"Indeed. So what is your business here?"

"My father, well, he sent me away. He threw me out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back because I refused to marry a man twice my age. I made my way here, where I had heard that a woman could aspire to be more than a wife and mother, that they could even by knights, though that is just a story."

"Well, I don't believe we've been introduced. My name is Lady Jane D'Ark, dragon rider," Jane said, extending a hand in greeting.

"Fiona, and that is ridiculous. There is no such thing as dragons." Fiona returned the shake, surprised to find calluses on her hands and a strong grip

"Dragon would beg to differ."

"Anyway, here I am. I know no one, I have nothing, and I have no plans to fix either problem. And you, Sir Knight? What is you name?"

"Sir Gunther."

"Gunther? Gunther _Breech_?"

"Do we know each other?"

"You used to spend your summers in the country. My father owned the land you would stay on, without out permission."

"I don't remember you, but I shall take your word for it."

Jane had been thinking. "You know, we could really use a housemaid, as I spend all of my time practicing in the arena and my husband is frequently entertaining the King."

"Oh, you mustn't do that! I would be an imposition!"

"No such thing. I insist. Gunther, you may leave."

And so Gunther left, astounded by these two unique women, so alike and yet so different.

OoOoO

She was a great wife. She cooked, she cleaned, she bore him children, but he _knew_ he could never love her. He was afraid to face her, and for the first time, he would look at her with no love in his eyes at all.

"Gunther." Jane called, quietly.

He didn't respond. "Gunther!" She called again, a little louder.

"Smithy, could you please get Gunther's attention?" Smithy punched Gunther in the arm, knocking him out of his stupor.

"What was that for?"

"We have company." Jane responded, subtly jerking her head behind them. Gunther followed her nod, and saw a group of twenty men following them on foot, weapons drawn.

Gunther cursed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: Sorry this one took so long. There will definately be one more chapter. By the way, this takes place after the third chapter of "Life of a Noble", so no more Frenchies.**

Gunther cursed. His first thought was the most obvious in this situation: run and don't look back. But these people seemed to expect such, as no sooner had this thought crossed his mind than another ten men came out of the underbrush in front of them, and yet another group on both sides of the road.

Jane and Smithy joined him in cursing.

"You know, this used to be a toll road." A man in the group just in front of them stepped forward, obviously the leader. The interesting thing was, looking at this group, it seemed that it was in reality four smaller groups. The group on each side of the road appeared to look to one person, standing with them, and those people were looking toward the man in front of them.

"Used to be a toll road?" Gunther asked, quite puzzled, looking for the best way to escape.

"Back when some people weren't imprisoned, this here was a toll road."

"So, what is this road, now?" asked Jane, even more confused than Gunther, subtly moving her eyes to the left of the road, where two of the brutes were a little farther apart than any of the others.

"This ain't a road no more."

"I believe it still is a road," commented Smithy, the most confused of all.

"Well, you see, the toll here, it helped the people. If it wasn't for the tolls, we wouldn't have any weapons. But now, we still can't get new weapons, so the road is closed now. No one travels on this road anymore."

"No one told us that. We'll head back into town and go ahead and take another road," Smithy definitely didn't get what was happening.

"I don't think you will. In fact, I think you got lost on your way home and were attacked by a pack of wolves." While the leader was talking, Jane got Gunther's attention very discreetly and moved her eyes to the weak point.

"Now, this hardly seems necessary. We were just hoping to make our way home. We're tired and we want rest," Gunther tried to reason with them.

"We can provide rest." It didn't seem to work.

Smithy finally seemed to catch on. "You plan on killing us?"

Gunther and the outlaw leader both replied to this somewhat blunt question by sighing, dropping their face into their hands, and shouting "Yes!"

"Well, you might as well explain why you're killing us again, since our companion missed that."

"Very well. You imprisoned our weapon source. Pal was the only smith in a ten mile radius willing to forge blades for outlaws, in return for the occasional work on guard duty and a share of the loot. So my gang and those three on your sides and behind you decided that if you weren't there, Pal would probably go free."

"At least let Smithy go. He had nothing to do with this. We simply brought him along to serve as a temporary squire, as neither of us have one."

The leader thought on this for a moment before gesturing toward the area on his left to open. Smithy left the small area, immediately setting his horse to a run in the direction of the castle a few minutes away. Unfortunately for Gunther and Jane, the group then stepped in until they completely surrounded the two horses, destroying any chance they might have had for escape. Gunther and Jane drew their swords, readying to fight.

OoOoO

Smithy rode hard to the castle. Fortunately, today was not a market day and he was only a few minutes away. The guards immediately recognized the Smith, and inquired as to why he was in such a rush. Smithy spluttered out the reason, and one of the sentries set off at a dead run. The other began to open the gates. In minutes, two score knights led by Sir Bedwyr rode off on horseback, pressing their steeds perhaps a bit too much.

When they arrived at the battle, things were not going well for Jane and Gunther. Jane had collapsed from a large gash on her side, and Gunther had moved her behind him in his saddle. Her horses head lay to the left of the road, the body to the right. Gunther's parries were getting sloppy, but only about ten of the outlaws remained standing, the others wounded or dead.

The knights stormed in, and Gunther and Jane were quickly removed from battle as the rest of the attackers were dispatched. Only one of the knights was injured, besides Gunther and Jane, and the knight quickly disposed of the dead outlaws and made their way back to the castle at a much slower pace. Jane was quickly brought to the kitchen where Pepper's daughters could most easily take care of her, Gunther was declared fine but was ordered to remain in the Knight's Quarters overnight, just in case. Half of Gunther was glad: his meeting with his wife would be delayed until the morning. The other half was distressed by the fact that he had to lay in despair, wondering how he would be received.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: Here you go, hot off the press. Please review.**

Gunther left the Knight's quarters early. Not quite as early as he liked, but once one of the new kitchen staff (Her name was Rosemartha or something like that) declared him fit, he left. He saw that Smithy was already up, working on something or other. It was amazing that anyone was sleeping considering the clanging of hammer on anvil. Gunther walked slowly, as his leg still hurt where he had taken several hits. Just as he approached the gates, he noticed that something blue-clad seemed to be in a hurr-

"Sorry!" yelled the Jester, pausing only for a moment to apologize for crashing into the knight. Behind him came a breathless youth. He appeared about fifteen, and from the dirty fingernails and deep tan, he was the gardener, some relative of the cooking sisters.

"No one had told Uncle Jes that Aunt Jane was sick, so I thought that I should," the boy explained through pants. _Uncle Jes?_ thought Gunther, _Jester! Of course! His parents were the servants always with Jane_. Gunther placed a large hand on the boys shoulder, a silent sign of approval. The boy practically glowed with pride under the large knight's hand. "I should get back to my carrots before Rosemary comes looking for them."

Rosemary! That was the girl's name! Gunther continued his slow walk toward the village. As he moved, the town began to wake up. Women were opening windows to the fresh air, men were heading to whatever jobs they occupied, children played merrily in the streets. A toddler with red hair was playing with some older kids. Gunther wondered if it was Jane's. He continued walking.

Gunther noticed yet another of the servant's brood making her way back to that inn they lived in, walking with a man who must be her husband, for they walked too closely for him not to be. A little farther he saw the old gardener himself. He was tending to the small garden just to the right of the inn. Inside, Gunther could see the servant he had married scurrying from table to table. _I really must learn their names,_ Gunther considered, _but there are so many of them!_

It was yet a short distance from his house when he heard a scream pierce the lazy sounds of the morning. There was an audible groan from everyone around him. Apparently, this was common. _When my son is born, I will never let him scream and yell like that_. Then Gunther realized that the yell had come from his own residence. He started running, more than a little bit confused. His son wasn't due for another week, so who was yelling. It wouldn't be Fiona, but who else could it be?

He came to the door, knocked lightly, and strode in. The entire entryway was a complete disaster. It looked as though Fiona hadn't been cleaning, which was odd, since all she did was clean. The scream continued, coming from up the stairway. He vaulted up the steps, still intrigued as to the source.

The first thing he saw was a bright shock of red. Fiona had her back to him. Her hair was even more disorderly than normal, and her dress looked wrinkled, even more unusual. She seemed to have heard him, as she spun around. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days, and the obvious reason was in her arms, screaming so the entire town could hear. She took one moment to ascertain he was who he was, and threw herself into his arms, careful of their child.

He was surprised on multiple levels. First, the child wasn't supposed to be born yet. Second, Fiona never showed any emotion, not to anyone, especially not him. So for a moment, he just stood there with his arms at his sides, listening as his wife cried desperately on his shoulder. Then, very slowly, he lifted his right arm, and placed it on her back, slowly moving it up and down in a soothing motion, while his left he lifted to her head.

After a moment, she stepped away, still disheveled. He reached out and took his son. "You need to rest," he said, as she was not standing steadily on her feet.

She nodded, not really comprehending. "Name…he needs a name…" She then fainted. Gunther moved quickly to catch her, balancing his wife in one arm and his son in the other. He gently brought her to their bedroom, where he laid her down over the quilt. He then sat down next to her.

His son had stopped crying, and in fact was oddly quiet. Gunther noticed that the boy's eyes had closed, and he obviously was sleeping. Gunther thought briefly before saying in a steadfast voice, "Fredrick," having decided already what to name his son. His wife twisted in her sleep, coming to rest nestled against his chest. It was then that he realized, in that perfect moment of family, how much he had done against his wife. He resolved to not hurt her, either purposefully or accidentally, ever again. It was not her fault he could not love her.

But perhaps more than that, he realized that he must make a good example to his son. For, his own father was a despicable creature worthy of contempt, and his father before that was cut from the same cloth. Gunther, however, wanted, no, _needed_ to do right by his son, and by his wife. He was a father now. He must be a better man, for the sake of his child. He must live the life of a father.


End file.
